


Sometimes You Can't Make It [On Your Own]

by QueerCanary (queercanary)



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Emotional Hurt, Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-28
Updated: 2020-05-28
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:00:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24429133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queercanary/pseuds/QueerCanary
Summary: Rip tells Sara to train Kendra how to control herself and her inner hawk-goddess. The problem is, Sara herself isn't exactly in complete control and ends up dangerously close to hurting Kendra.The incident leaves Kendra afraid of Sara-- as if Sara being afraid of herself isn't good enough.Kendra pushes down the fear when she realizes that Sara is hurting and in need of a friend.
Kudos: 15





	Sometimes You Can't Make It [On Your Own]

**Author's Note:**

> Season 1, Episode 4.  
> There was a nice little sub-plot of the beginning of Kendra and Sara's friendship that I wanted to explore more.  
> Feelings HIGHLY speculative but I really like the pair as close friends and wanted to explore Sara's feelings as she first joins the team a bit more.  
> (I noticed how in the episode when Kendra confronts Rip about Sara, she somehow knows about the blood lust without him (or anyone) directly telling her about it so I improvised)  
> Also, actual conversations that happen from the show happen a bit differently/are not verbatim. 
> 
> (This is my first fic in literal years so I'm sorry if its bad, I'm trying to get back into it. and also my first fic on this website ever so please excuse any mistakes in my formatting and tags and stuff)

Sara didn’t remember snapping. She never really did. She remembered flying through the air and a dull impact. The next thing she knew, Kendra was writhing beneath her, gasping for breath, skin warm beneath her hands.

Sara staggered back. The look of pure terror on Kendra’s face haunted her. She’d told Rip this would be a bad idea. He couldn’t trust her.

She couldn’t trust herself.

҉

Kendra gasped, breath rattling painfully back into her lungs. Panic was gradually replaced by fear as Sara stumbled back before staggering away.

“Sara!” Kendra called out weakly, her voice hoarse and throat sore. Her hand soothed her throat as she regained her bearings.

Sara had never been… friendly. She distanced herself ruthlessly and drove herself hard. Kendra hadn’t expected Sara to be nice. But still, the ruthless punches had been frightening. Every time Kendra had begged her to stop, she only seemed to hit harder.

Everything was happening so fast. Kendra felt like she was at work at the café one moment before blinking into this insane world of immortals, reincarnations, destiny, and angry assassins in the next. That sensation of timelessness washed over Kendra again: she blinked and Sara was no longer aloof, if combative--she was on top of Kendra choking the life out of her relentlessly.

Sara Lance was, undeniably, a force of nature. Kendra had witnessed this in the field in the short amount of time they had been on the ship. She was unnervingly strong and suave. So in control. Kendra hadn’t considered that maybe the assassin wasn’t as in control as she always seemed. Or maybe that was the problem: the assassin _had_ been in control.

That… hadn’t been Sara. The look in her eyes terrified Kendra. Sara hadn’t been looking back at her. It wasn’t human. Kendra hadn’t even considered the possibility that the woman would have that darkness inside of her.

Kendra hadn’t wanted to spar Sara, hadn’t wanted to raise to her taunts or shoves. The torn face of the guard she’d mauled still haunted her. All she could think about was accidentally turning on one of the team, mauling them too. Kendra didn’t have control and she knew it. She was terrified she would hurt Sara. It never occurred to her that calm and collected Sara would be the one hurting her.

Kendra pushed herself to her feet before rushing after Sara.

҉

Sara felt claustrophobic, Kendra’s frightened eyes flashing through her mind as she sought refuge and privacy somewhere aboard the Waverider.

Kendra was supposed to be able to trust her; they were teammates, on the same side. But nobody could trust Sara. It was a painful reminder of why she couldn’t let anybody get too close.

She’d warned Rip. Why didn’t he ever listen?

Sara made it to her room, the doors whooshing shut behind her. She pulled up her top as she turned to look in the mirror: a large bruise was forming where she had landed after being thrown. It would be ugly but not too painful. Not as painful as Sara felt she deserved for turning on a teammate.

This was why she had left Oliver and the Arrow team behind after John had returned her soul. She didn’t have control. Apparently, she still didn’t. Staying in one place was too dangerous for everyone around her. She was too dangerous for was place.

It felt scary that she was apart of a team again, that people were relying on her. That people trusted her enough to turn their backs on her, to let their guard down around her. She felt the familiar burn in her heart that told her it was time to move on. She would soon.

How much longer could this mission last?

Sara let her shirt drop before rolling her stiff shoulders and plopping on the edge of the mattress, one heel planted firmly on the wall. She unrolled a whetstone from its cloth and began sharpening the nearest knife, trying to center herself on the repetitive and familiar task.

҉

Kendra wandered into Sara’s room, finding the woman sharpening a knife with a blank look on her face.

“Next time, you might want to knock.” Sara quipped dryly without breaking the rhythm of her movements.

“What the hell was that?” Kendra demanded, arms crossing over her chest.

Sara didn’t respond for a few moments, the harsh rasping of stone-on-blade occupying the room before she sighed, responding, “I told Rip it was a bad idea.”

Kendra blanched. “Told Rip what was a bad idea?”

“I told him you were out of control, that someone needed to reign you in.” Sara didn’t spare Kendra a glance, focused on the blade.

“And he told you to do it.”

“Yes, and it isn’t safe. But he didn’t seem to care.” Sara sighed before setting the stone and blade down and looked Kendra in the eye. “I told him about my blood lust, and he didn’t care. If anything, it makes me more useful to him.” Sara paused before lowering her gaze. Kendra was stunned: Sara never backed down from anyone. “I’m sorry I hurt you. I… it was an accident.”

Kendra didn’t know how to respond and Sara didn’t seem to want a response. She brushed past Kendra, not meeting her gaze.

“Blood lust?” Kendra murmured to herself, furrowing her brow.

҉

The kick to the head wasn’t what made Kendra regret calling Sara a cold-blooded assassin. It was the split second of pause before Sara had wailed on her, a split second with no reaction. NO emotions played across the cool woman’s face and she hadn’t responded with any words either. No malice behind the eyes, no twist to the lips, nothing. Emotionless.

Kendra felt bad about what she said because she knew there was more to Sara than the woman let on, that there was some kind of pain hidden inside her. Kendra had challenged that Sara had no idea what it was like, this rapid life change Kendra was trying to navigate, now alone. But in reality, Kendra realized, she knew nothing about Sara. What had made her into an assassin. Who she was before. Who she was now. All she knew, and all that Sara volunteered, was that Sara had been killed. And that Sara had been dead for a while. And that her sister Laurel had risked everything to bring her back to life.

And that that resurrection had changed Sara.

Sara hadn’t responded to Kendra’s fiery words, which meant, Kendra knew, that Sara didn’t see it as an insult. Sara saw it as cold, hard fact. That those were words that danced around Sara’s own mind but which she never spoke about, fearing her own weakness.

Suddenly, Kendra felt more angry at Rip for knowing that Sara was going to try to kill her, and sending her anyway, than at Sara for the actual act. After all, if Sara had expressed hesitation to Rip, what happened wasn’t entirely her fault. She wasn’t in control and Rip played with her anyway.

҉

“What happened?” Rip asked as Kendra approached, dark welts starting to pop up on her neck as she massaged her shoulder.

“The psycho assassin you sent after me.” Rip didn’t meet her eyes and Kendra maintained a heated pace. “Were you going to tell me about her blood lust, or let her kill me first?”

Rip didn’t meet her eyes. “Yeah, well.” He replied sheepishly. “I figured this arrangement could be… mutually beneficial.”

Kendra looked at him incredulously. Rip didn’t need Kendra to tell him that Sara lost control: the marks on her neck and stiff demeanor told him everything. “I can’t believe you knew about Sara and still pushed her to train me! Especially after she told you she didn’t want to!”

“Sara was resurrected from the dead, and she went through hell. She’s been forcing herself through that hell ever since. I didn’t bring up the blood lust because not only can she do nothing about it but also because nobody on the team would ever look at her the same way! You see how she isolates herself. The others are already… uncomfortable around her. She didn’t need them to have another reason to hate her! She clearly has that part handled all on her own.”

They stalked on in silence for a few moments before Rip sighed again, pausing to look Kendra in the eye. “I figured… you could help her regain some of that humanity she lost.”

“Why me?” Kendra mumbled. “Ray is a literal beacon of sunshine. Rory and Snart are literal hardened criminals.”

“Because I figured that after 4000 years, you might now a thing or two about rebirth.”

҉

Kendra’s mind flashed back to the inhuman look in Sara’s eyes and knew Rip was right: Sara needed help just as much as she did.

The way Sara always projected hot confidence had made Kendra lean against her as a trusted backbone. Sara was strong and capable and confident in her own skin. Or at least, it had seemed like it.

Kendra hadn’t realized until today how little she actually knew about Sara. She realized that Sara telling Kendra about her blood lust was the closest piece of personal information she knew about the woman, and that Sara casually expressing this misgiving about herself was the closest she’d ever come to talking about feelings. The way that Sara couldn’t meet Kendra’s eyes as she ran away again had been heartbreaking. It was the first time Sara had flinched.

Something about what Sara had said bothered her. Sara saying that she told Rip and he didn’t care. That she told him she couldn’t train Kendra and he didn’t care. He sent her anyway, hoping the two women would work their issues out without him having to spare another thought for it.

What she said next, about this bone-aching desire to kill making her more useful to Rip, haunted Kendra. Because maybe Sara was right. Maybe Rip really did only see her as a tool to do what he couldn’t: kill for the good of the cause. He didn’t think she was human: he’d asked Kendra to make Sara find her human side. Sara already _was_ human. Kendra knew there was some kind of war going on inside her and she needed support and that Rip sure as hell wasn’t going to be that support.

 _Maybe I’m making a mistake. Maybe I’m overestimating me. Or her._ Kendra thought to herself on the way to the cargo bay. _But I’m not the kind of person to let someone struggle on their own like this. Not if there is even the slightest chance that I can help._

The metal of the staff was cool as the grasped it determinedly, resolving to face Sara in the element the woman most understood: combat.


End file.
